


Captain Werewolf America

by thecheekydragon



Series: Mating Games Extras [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Captain America - Freeform, Community: mating_games, M/M, POV Stiles, Public Sex, The Avengers - Freeform, challenge two, handjob, iron man t-shirt, main challenge, mating-games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecheekydragon/pseuds/thecheekydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and taps out a text to Erica: <i>There is a guy dressed as Captain America in the theatre. I want to make out with him even though I have no idea what he looks like. Wish me luck, I’m going in.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Werewolf America

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Challenge The Second](http://mating-games.livejournal.com/4102.html) at [mating-games.](http://mating-games.livejournal.com)
> 
> Prompt: Texts from Last Night
> 
> TFLN: http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-29922.html

Stiles glances at the text from Erica and frowns.

The rest of the pack had blown him off for _The Avengers_ Re-Watch and Dress-Up event with excuses of work or other commitments but Stiles had been counting on Erica at least to show up in her sweet Black Widow costume to complement the awesome Iron Man suit t-shirt Stiles had donned for the occasion. 

And now Erica couldn’t make it. 

Stiles buys extra-buttered popcorn and a large Mountain Dew to console himself. He gives the attendant (who flicks an appreciative nod at his t-shirt) his ticket then files into the theatre, taking a seat in the back row so he can check out his fellow costumed geeks. He spots an impressive-looking Hulk and a few Iron Mans as well as a couple of Black Widows, (none with cleavage as impressive as Erica who will now be sorry she missed out on that account).

He is alone in the back row when the movie starts. About five minutes in, though, Stiles notices Captain America slipping into a seat at the end of his row.

He stares. He can’t help it. Because...wow. 

It’s dark and Stiles can’t see much but he can see the way the guy fills out the spandex-lycra costume – broad shoulders, chiselled chest. Well-groomed scruff shows where the mask doesn’t cover which sort of reminds Stiles of a certain sour wolf but he quickly shakes that thought off and enjoys the view.

He pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and taps out a text to Erica: _There is a guy dressed as Captain America in the theatre. I want to make out with him even though I have no idea what he looks like. Wish me luck, I’m going in._

Grabbing his drink and snack, he hops two seats over. 

“Popcorn?” Stiles offers, tilting the bag toward the superhero.

America gives him a look and Stiles is sure there’s a raised eyebrow behind the part of the mask that covers the guy’s forehead. He can’t tell what color the guy’s eyes are in this light but he thinks they’re maybe a blue-green or hazel. Hmph. 

They sit watching the movie, munching on Stiles’ buttered popcorn. Another twenty minutes into the film, Stiles suddenly feels a hand at his crotch, the heel of a palm gently kneading into his groin. 

Well, fuck. 

It’s not long before fingers deftly pull down his zipper and pull out his not surprisingly stiffening-on-the-way-to-becoming-very-hard cock. The fingers stroke his length gently at first, thumb teasing over his cockhead, smearing the pre-come there. A warm and butter-greasy palm then wraps around his shaft and begins jerking him. The strokes are measured at first, testing limits, then become more eager and determined as though the guy wants to see how quickly he can get Stiles off.

Stiles is sure a new world record is set because he feels the pinpricks of orgasm building after what seems like only seconds. He is vaguely aware of some action happening on-screen and a vibration in his pocket as his hips jerk then still and he shoots hot and sticky. 

America wipes his hand off on Stiles’ shirt. He tears a piece off the popcorn bag Stiles is clutching in post-orgasm bliss, writes something on it (and, really, where does one carry a freakin’ pen while wearing skin-tight lycra?) and shoves it at Stiles before getting up and leaving the theatre. (Stiles feels validated when he sees there’s no hiding a _boner_ in that costume.)

Stiles uses his phone to light up the scrap of paper: _Meet me. Bathroom._

He chucks the popcorn to the floor, sparing a moment’s guilty thought to whoever stumbles on that little gem later, seeing how his jizz now coats the whole of one side of the bag (yeah, _eww_ ) before tucking himself in, zipping up and following.

On route to the follow-up hook-up, he remembers his phone vibrating and pulls up the text message from Erica:

_u know that costume-clad CA is derek, right?_

Stiles stares at the text for a full minute before pocketing his phone and racing toward the bathroom. 

Because there’s a sexy sour wolf in spandex-lycra waiting for him there. And Stiles plans on peeling off those blue tights and giving Captain Werewolf America a blow job that would put Iron Man’s superpowers to utter freakin’ shame.


End file.
